I Never Loved You Anyway
by RedBrunja
Summary: “There should be someone getting her to smile: she was too pretty for somber to be her default expression.” In the game of love, some lines you cross, some lines you leap over, and some lines require playing hopscotch with the rules. [Yaone x Gojyo]
1. Have Someone Else On My Mind

**Author's Note:** Written for livejournal's unloveyou community. Much love goes to my betas, pzb and renegadekitsune, without whom this would have zillions of typos and still be lacking a summery.

(≠)

It wasn't that seeing his brother and Yaone turn around to leave was terribly surprising - that they'd opened their conversation asking about their pouf of a boss said a lot right there- but it did surprise him that when he had yelled, they'd came back.

"Hey!" Gojyo shouted, half-drowned and clinging to a tree trunk with a sadistic monk. "Care to help us before you leave?"

"Of course, forgive me for my abruptness," Yaone replied, and her head reappeared over the edge of the cliff, "would you mind waiting a moment?"

He'd never been more grateful to see a rope in his life.

There hadn't been any convenient trees, so Dokugakuji was kneeling down, rope wrapped around his wrists and anchored by his grip, Yaone waiting at the top.

The minute he was close enough to reach, she grabbed his wrist and pulled him up. After scaling the cliff, wet boots slipping on the bluff and drenched clothes pulling at his limbs like greedy hands, he was so grateful he barely looked down her corset much at all.

"Yaone," he panted, kneeling on the grass next to her, starting to shiver and watching as she gave the monk a hand up, "sometime you're going to have to let me buy you a drink."

She laughed distractedly, more of a brief huff of air than anything else, and her eyes were still worried.

"Thank you for the offer," she said politely, once Sanzo was on top of the cliff as well.

"But it's unnecessarily," she finished, turning to unwind the rope from around Doku's hands,

"Oh, I don't think so," Gojyo argued, as she started to gather wood. Doku, walking past, slapped him on the back of his head.

"What the hell?" he yelled, trying to get angry enough to feel warm.

"Don't flirt with Yaone," Doku snipped, as the woman in question piled the wood into a pyramid and did something with a vial and a click of her fingers that caused the tripod of firewood to burst into flames.

"Okay, see, now after that?" Gojyo revised, as the first wave of warmth hit him, "I owe you many, many drinks."

"Oh, it's nothing," Yaone said, now stringing the rope between two trees. Taking the robes Sanzo had pulled off, she wrung out the water and spread the fabric over the impromptu clothes line. Was she ever still? Not that Gojyo wasn't grateful, but it was freaky to see someone so focused on getting task after task down. It was like watching Hakkai on housecleaning day.

"By the way, you'll warm up faster if you take off take off that soaked jacket," Yaone held out her hands, "do you mind?"

Gojyo gave her his most charming smile. "Who could refuse when such a lovely lady asks me to remove clothing?"

She had to force herself to smile, Gojyo could tell, and that expression of false amusement looked too natural on her face. Admittedly, she was probably worried about something - even odds it was the missing members of their little quad, but still. There should be someone getting her to smile- she was too pretty for somber to be her default expression.

Doku was looking wooden, and Gojyo couldn't tell if it was from worry about whatever was causing Yaone's lips to pinch together, or if it was from annoyance that he was flirting with her. He ran his tongue along the back of his teeth and felt bothered that he couldn't read his brother as well as he used to - although considering the things he'd only realized years too late, maybe he'd never been that good at reading his brother anyway.

"Damn, it's cold," Gojyo groused, rubbing his hands down his arms.

"The almighty Sanzo squad as a capsized trio. You guys suck." Doku said, his words too-laden for the usual witty banter. Yep, the lucky bastard was totally nailing Yaone. No wonder he'd been snappish earlier.

Yaone and Hakkai started discussing the absence of Kougaiji, and Yaone's eyes closed in pain.

Huh. Looked like there was other things going on besides his brother's extraordinary luck in bed partners.

"We seem to have become separated from Kougaiji," Yaone said, looking at the ground.

She was just starting to explain when some over-dramatic fairy showed up. What a pissant. If he was going to interrupt the hot, distressed chick, he sure as hell better have something more amusing to say than cliché drenched threats. Maybe Gojyo should suggest that the little princess take lessons from Sanzo - _that_ man knew how to make threats, even if he never followed through...

Yeah, this assassin should be a piece of cake.

"Don't look into his eyes!" Yaone yelled, and Gojyo did.

(≠)

Lack of sleep was making her punchy. Otherwise, she'd never been so foolish as to slip into Kougaiji's rooms.

Still after the month she'd had, Kougaiji vanishing, Kougaiji brainwashed, followed by that frantic search for him, Zakuru, getting her Lord back, rescuing Lirin, forcing Doku to rest, watching Lirin and her brother sleep off their separate ordeals, followed by setting her lab back into order... well, perhaps she was allowed one bad call.

It was evening, and Yaone took care that no one saw her climb out of the library and up to Kougaiji's balcony.

She quietly opened the glass door and stepped into his bedroom.

He'd been pacing, and looked up sharply at the sound of her footfalls.

"Yaone," he breathed.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I didn't meant to disturb you..." Yaone's eyes were locked on Kougaiji's and he was in his eyes again, him, it was him, not some blank eyed puppet with her Lord's face. She felt her eyes well with happy tears.

Kougaiji took two long strides towards her, put his hand behind her head and kissed her. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he laid her gently down on his bed, untying her robe and fingers nimbly unbuttoning her pajamas. She shrugged out of her clothes, baring skin marked by bruises from the previous day's battle. She carefully put her hand over the particularly ugly one on her hip, hiding it from sight. Kougaiji was murmuring into her ear, voice too hoarse and low for her to understand the words. Wrapping her legs around him, she felt a flush of gratitude that he was back, and had to take deep breaths to keep herself under control.

Later, curled next to him with her arms around his chest and her head pillowed on his shoulder, she gazed at his profile in the dark.

"Yaone..." Kougaiji's voice sounded hesitant, and she straightened a little. "Was it... never mind." He forced his voice into surety. "It doesn't matter."

Yaone thought of lying on the cold, Control Room floor, Nii watching her like she was a new plaything, of rooms that were too silent, of watching herself in her bathroom mirror and forcing that pained look out of her eyes, because if Dokugakuji saw her looking broken... She remembered the gutted feeling when Kougaiji had looked at her like she was nothing, remembered desperately seeking him, Lirin trapped behind glass, the way Doku had looked like he was at fault and a failure, even the way his brother's screams had turned to silence when Gojyo had thought he'd killed his friends, the lack of sound so painful and so, so familiar.

"No," she agreed. Yaone smiled up at Kougaiji, and reached up to brush her lips against his. "It wasn't that bad. And it's over now." She smiled, and then caught sight of the bedside clock. "I should go."

He nodded and watched her as she dressed, pulling on her clothes in the dark. At the balcony she paused.

"I'm glad to have you back, my Lord," she said, and exited.

(≠)

Kougaiji watched her leave. She had sickly green bruises on her shoulders and unlike the few scattered about her body, they weren't from the last fight with the Sanzo Party.

He remembered how she's gotten those. It had been after he'd killed Goykumen Koushu's latest body servant. The man's body had fallen to the floor, dropped like so much trash. Yaone's eyes had been horrorstruck. She'd stepped toward him and begged, "please, my Lord, please, remember who you are."

And he's shoved her again the wall. He'd grabbed the woman he'd saved, the woman who'd sworn to follow him, the woman he'd been sharing a bed with for months and shoved her against the wall hard enough to leave bruises and felt nothing at all.

Goykumen Koushu had laughed, Nii had clapped slowly, and he'd felt _nothing_.

And now, now Yaone had come to him again, and he hadn't even begged her forgiveness before having her, hadn't even asked if she was all right.

He was turning into his father's son.

A hard knot of fear settled in his gut.

There had to be some way to protect her. He felt his terror grow until he could taste it in his mouth like the echo of Yaone's kisses, and then he knew exactly what he had to do.

(≠)

"It's out of the way," Sanzo declared. "We're going West."

Hakkai chuckled.

Dawn was just barely a glimmer in the East, Gojyo could still see stars, he was craving caffeine with the kind of passion he usually reserved for women or cigarettes and the monkey was a dead lump in the seat next to him.

Gojyo looked over Hakkai's shoulder at the map.

Directly west of the little dot that denoted that-hick-town-with-the-haunted-Parcheesi-board, as Gojyo thought of the place they'd spent the last night, was nothing. Just a nice, blank spot that Gojyo was sure denoted nothing but trees, and rocks, and rocky ground with lots of nice rocks, and not a pretty women or a bar within a hundred miles.

"No fucking way," he declared. "We're going there." He stabbed one finger at the slightly larger dot than that-hick-town-with-the-haunted-Parcheesi-board labeled 'Yishui.'

"What the hell makes you think you get to decide which route we take?" Sanzo snarled.

"So you'd like to spent three days camping in the woods without cigarettes, booze, or a pretty face?" Gojyo yelled back.

"...uuugle... meatbuns..." Goku muttered, and snuggled closer to Gojyo. He shoved Goku back towards his side of the jeep.

"As if my preferences had _any_ bearing on this demented trip," Sanzo said in his high-and-mighty-est voice. "And I say–"

Hakkai cleared his throat.

"Actually," he said, "I think Gojyo's right."

"I am?" Gojyo asked.

"This is certainly a first," Sanzo muttered, clearly a sore loser.

"Of course I am," Gojyo repeated smugly.

Hakkai started folding the map away. "We are running low on supplies," he continued with a cheery smile, putting Hakaryu in gear, "and I'd prefer to actually have food before we decide to camp in areas that do not have restaurants with Goku."

"Then Yishui it is," Goyjo declared, slapping the back of Hakkai's seat cheerfully, almost not caring that it was an hour of the morning when he should be getting into a bed, instead of heading away from one. "Yishui," he said again. "Doesn't that just sound like a town chock-full of pretty women?"

"No." Sanzo said mulishly, and lit a cigarette.

(≠)

There was nothing quite as relaxing as buying materials for her explosives.

The substances she needed for her potions, powders and bombs were too easy to tamper with to trust merchants to bring them to Houtou castle, and after recent events, she didn't trust some of the items that had been locked in her laboratory, and had started randomly disassembling her bombs and testing her potions to make sure that they hadn't been disturbed.

In the normal course of things, Yaone left Houtou Castle every few sennights to resupply. She hadn't done so for quite a while, however, and had several pages listing needed items in her clear, crisp script.

The bubbly feeling in her belly, however, wasn't due to the prospect of the next few days being full of shopping.

Her hotel room was small but bright, the woodwork of the table and headboard well scrubbed and the linens clean. When she opened the drapes and windows, sunlight poured in and a fresh breeze brushed against her face. It made a nice change from Houtou Castle, and Yaone relished the sight of whitewashed walls and warm sunshine.

She was hanging up the few clothes she'd brought with her when Kougaiji appeared. Yaone turned to him and smiled, unsurprised. This was how they'd started, after all. She'd leave for a few days, and at some point during that time her Lord would appear. At first she'd thought he was checking up on her, making sure she was all right, but gradually she'd come to realize that he desired time away from Houtou Castle and Goykumen Koushu's orders even more than Yaone did. And then one day he'd kissed her, tentatively, like he expected her to push him away. Instead she'd closed her eyes and drew him closer and then... Yaone grinned at the memory, heat in her smile as she looked at Kougaiji.

"It's good to see you, My Lord," she said walking towards him with her face upturned for a kiss. He obliged, his lips hot and dry against hers. He kissed her desperately, mouth almost unfamiliar and she pulled her head back, bones thrumming.

"Are you all right?" she asked, and now that she was looking, Yaone could see fine lines of stress around his eyes, and felt worry unspool in her stomach. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Kou said automatically. Yaone was already looking apprehensive, and he'd barely told her anything. He braced himself. "Actually, yes," he admitted.

He heard the faintest catch in her breathing. She was staring at him with wide, dark eyes, and he wanted nothing more than to go back to kissing her, lose himself in the silk of her skin and the scent of her hair. He forced himself to remember what it felt like to be truly a slave, even his soul bowing to another's whims.

Yaone was still staring at him. His hands were still on her shoulders and he jerked them away.

She stumbled back a step, rejection already starting to grow in her eyes, and he hadn't even said anything yet.

"Lord Kougaiji..." she started slowly

"This is over," he said harshly. He'd expected there to be a moment of denial, but Yaone immediately knew what his words meant.

She opened her mouth twice, words refusing to come. There was a long pause, and then she spoke.

"You don't want me anymore?" Her voice was very small.

"Of course..." Kou checked himself. She was stubborn beneath the sweetness and if she realized his true motives... "No. No, I don't. This was a mistake."

He'd known that she'd be hurt, but the stunned, agonized expression that crossed her face hit him like a punch to the gut.

"I..." she started. "I see." Her back straightened, and she drew herself up. "Well in that case I should-" she froze, and looked at him with horror in her eyes. "I am-" she sucked in a breath and Kou watched her brace herself. "Am I still you apothecary?" she asked, and Kou didn't think he'd ever heard her sound so vulnerable.

"Always," Kou said, and only by keeping his voice brusque did he manage to keep it from wavering. "I'll see you in a few days."

Yaone gave a formal half-bow. "I shall see you then, my Lord."

"Good," Kougaiji agreed, turned on his heel, and stepped forward. One moment he was in Yaone's hotel room with the sun streaming through the windows and the next he was back in his darkened suite of rooms at Houtou Castle.

He didn't stop moving; he strode to the nearest object (a vase, gorgeous, useless, ornamental) and threw it so hard against the wall it barely made a sound as it broke. He swore viciously, and threw the table the vase had been resting on against the wall as well.

It didn't help and only the memory of yellowing bruises caused by his hand stopped him from immediately returning to Yaone's hotel room, falling to his knees, and begging her forgiveness.

(≠)

Yaone sat slowly down on the bed.

What was wrong with her breathing? It was just so loud. Struck by the sudden fear that someone in one of the rooms next to hers could hear her breath, Yaone reached over and started fiddling with the radio next to the bed. After a moment, the static cleared, and something low and filled with piano came on.

Yaone brought her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs, and focused on keeping her breath quiet and heartbeat slow.

When the shadows had shifted, the bright light of morning no longer filling her hotel room, she calmly rose, and went to purchase the items she needed.

It was a good thing that she had already established accounts with most of the merchants, as she couldn't imagine what a horrific job she would do if she needed to barter. As it was, most of the shopkeepers either asked if she was feeling all right, or discreetly tried to diagnose her from eyesight alone.

Even Master Wu, who she'd been convinced hated her for a year until she realized he simply tried everyone like they were a bother asked her whether she was dying on not.

The next day didn't go much better.

She'd spent the entire night lying under too-cold sheets and remembering all the thousand little signs that she'd hoarded in her memory that she'd believed meant Kougaiji had loved her, and laid over all of them was the way he'd looked walking away.

Yaone hadn't slept well.

After depositing the day's purchases in her room, Yaone loitered on the mezzanine above the main floor of the hotel and debated dinner.

Logically, she hadn't had anything to eat since the toast she'd tortured at breakfast, and was aware that she should probably eat something. However, her stomach was twisted into knots, and descending into the busy bar held no appeal. She was exhausted just watching the waitresses darting around the busy room, the chatter of voices rising to buzz against her ears like gnats. Additionally, even from above, she could tell that half the room was occupied by couples in various stages of wooing. Over there was a married couple and then two young dark haired youths clearly newly in a relationship, and below her... Yaone rolled her eyes, bitter and embarrassed at the pair of humans who decided public was the appropriate area to do ...that.

She looked over in the far corner, where a group of men were playing cards. There she was unlikely to have to watch-

Long, blood-red hair caught her eyes and her mouth opened in shock.

He shouldn't be _here_. The Sanzo party had been last spotted in Lazhou - they shouldn't be 150 miles _north_west in Yishui unless... Yaone factored in bad weather, insistence on staying in hotels, and irascible traveling companions, as well as the way the Sanzo party seemed more to wander in a vaguely westerly direction than traveling in a strictly liner pattern.

Yaone pressed herself against one of the support beams, peering around to watch Sha Gojyo lounge at the table, one arm draped back over his chair, the other holding a fan of cards.

Yaone debated. It would be foolish to rush back to Houtou Castle - even if she left now, by the time the group returned, the Sanzo party would have left. While she didn't doubt she could incapacitate Gojyo and take him back to Houtou Castle, she severely doubted holding a hostage would change the behavior of Genjyo Sanzo or make it easier to take the Maten Sutra. Furthermore, Yaone wasn't sure if the orders to gain the Maten where still up to date - recently, Goykumen Koushu had been focusing on a clan of demons in the north that claimed to possess Kouten Sutra.

Yaone pinched the bridge of her nose. Could nothing really be the appropriate response to this situation?

She was just debating this question, and wondering if actually having something more to eat than a slice of bread twelve hours ago might make this quandary a little easier to solve when Gojyo's opponent knocked over the table.

Yaone straightened. Gojyo didn't look worried, his body still loose and relaxed.

Behind Gojyo, directly in her line of sight, someone pulled a knife, and Yaone suddenly had no doubts at all about the appropriate course of action.

(≠)

To Be Continued

(≠)


	2. Always Wondered What This'd Be Like

The minute they'd arrived in Yishui, Gojyo had split. Finally a decent town! Nice big bar, air smelling pleasantly of frying food and alcohol, full of the chattering of happy people, worn cards beneath his hands - Gojyo felt something inside relax, and leaned back to enjoy cleaning the pockets of his poker opponents.

Most took it fairly well and hell, he was up enough to be buying drinks, so really, what was Hsin's problem?

Besides an inborn lack of any sort of grace while losing.

And, admittedly, Gojyo _had_ emptied rather of lot of cash out of the man's wallet, but you'd think that after consistently drawing crappy cards and trying to bluff with trash hands, Hsin'd get the hint and come back another night. But no, this dude just keep playing, face growing more and more suffused with blood, so easy to read that Gojyo was starting to get bored.

Especially since the women didn't seem interested in gambling or gamblers or, more likely, judging from the psudeo-military markings on Hsin's jacket, they didn't want to irritate the local law enforcement. Gojyo didn't have that problem, and his lips widened in a lazy smirk.

"Sure you don't want to give my your wallet now and save us some time?" he asked.

Hsin slammed his shot glass down, putting a nice dent in the table and causing the coins on the table to shift slightly in reproach. One of Hsin's buddies -Ahriman, Gojyo thought his name was- decided now would be a good time to refresh his drink. The rest of the men around him just looked at Hsin and fidgeted.

Hsin's lips worked for a moment, and then he spat out the highly original retort, "Fuck you."

Gojyo snorted. "Sorry," he said insincerely, "but you're not my type. I like 'em nice and leggy," which was an underhanded shot at the man's diminutive stature, and if the his eyes were anything to go by, it hit the mark.

"Plus," Goyjo finished, "you know, tits." He shrugged in a what-can-you-do? way.

"I've had just about enough of your attitude, boy," Hsin snarled.

"Well, I just can't get enough of your money," Gojyo responded, looking fondly at the stack of bills in front of him and trying not to chortle. "Another hand?"

Hsin roared at him and flipped over the table. Gojyo swiped his winnings off the table as it flipped over, ignoring the coins, which fell and bounced against the floor with musical clangs.

Gojyo slipped the bills into his jacket pocket, not bothering to get up.

Hsin jerked his head meaningfully at someone behind Gojyo, and then lunged for him.

Gojyo rose, snagging the chair he'd been sitting on his foot and sliding it into Hsin's path. Hsin tripped over it gratifyingly, crashing to the floor with a loud thud.

His two henchmen were more fun.

Dodge, punch, pivot and the first was out of commission.

The second had a set of brass knuckles, which Gojyo didn't find out until the guy got in a jab across his forehead that made sparks burst across his vision.

Gojyo ducked the next punch, slugged the man in the belly, and when Henchmen #2 curled over, Gojyo slammed his knee into the guy's face.

Gojyo stepped back, not even breathing hard and then remembered Hsin's pointed nod.

He whirled around and did a double-take.

Ahriman was taken taken care of. He was on his knees, right hand bent painfully back. He finally dropped the knife with a loud clatter and an angry grimace, glaring up at the extraordinarily pretty women standing over him.

"...Yaone?' Gojyo asked.

She kicked the knife away and it skittered across the floor to embed itself in a table leg.

Then she looked up at him.

"Yes, Gojyo?" she asked, voice composed. She released Ahriman and stepped away.

Gojyo raised his eyebrows. "I didn't expect to see you here,"he said as Ahriman surged to his feet.

The bar was quiet enough that Gojyo could hear Hsin's hoarse breaths behind him.

Gojyo ignored him, focusing on the apothecary. It went without saying that she was looking tremendously sexy, dark hair loose about her shoulder, sexy cheongsam that left her arms bare and made her skin glow, but she also looked... Gojyo couldn't think of the right word. Too pale, shadows under her eyes... frail, he decided, she almost looked frail, which was not what he'd expect from someone who held her own against Hakkai regularly and had just dealt with Ahriman like eating cake.

Speaking of Ahriman, he had decided that his pride needed to be demolished further.

"You'll pay for that, you fucking whore," he snarled at Yaone, pulled out another wickedly serrated knife, and lunged forward.

Yaone leaned out of the way of his opening slash, backhanded him, grabbed him by the throat, and then threw him across the room.

God, she was hot.

Ahriman landed on a table in a crash of breaking bones and shattering china, the diners making excitable squeals of distaste, and Hsin decided Gojyo was sufficiently distracted and attacked.

Gojyo stepped to the side, shot his elbow back and the man dropped like a sack of cement.

The whole bar was staring at them. Geez, the way they acted you'd think Hsin and his buddy were important or badasses or something.

Yaone eyes were on the floor, hair veiling her face, clearly very self-conscious about the people watching her. Gojyo would expect a woman that beautiful to be more comfortable with eyes on her.

"Whaddaya say we go some place quieter?" he asked. "I've had about all I can take of the local 'talent.'"

Yaone blinked in surprise and focused on his forehead.

"I... yes, that would be a good idea," she said, walking towards the stairs, and Gojyo trotted after her. She went quickly down the hall towards her room, moving with assassin's grace, feet silent on the ground.

She pulled him into her room, peering down the empty hallway.

Gojyo had been tugged into a number of hotel rooms by a number of women, but he'd never have expected Yaone to be one of them. Clearly he'd done something good in a past life.

"You don't actually think that they're going to come back for more, do you?" Gojyo asked.

"They're not who- never mind," she cut herself off, closing the door. She brushed past him, and Gojyo inhaled, the scent of vanilla and adrenaline and _her_ hitting him like an ashtray to the forehead.

Yaone flicked on a lamp, the flash of light blinding after the dim hallway and previously dark room.

When his eyes had adjusted, Yaone was digging through her bag.

"Would you like to have a seat?' she asked, and Gojyo gladly took the opportunity to lounge back on her bed. And damn, her hotel bed was comfier than the last twenty he'd been in.

Yaone came over to the bedside and Gojyo felt his eyebrows raise as he sat up.

Off his look, she gestured to his forehead. "I'd like to put something on that, if you don't mind," she said

"'Course not," Gojyo said after a moment. She slid his bandana off his head, pushing back his hair, and only then did he realize that sticky wetness was trickling across his forehead and his head ached.

Yaone dabbed at the wound with a damp cloth, and Gojyo found the look of concentration she wore more entrancing than the curves of her breasts or the line of her neck.

She stared at his eyes, and as much as Gojyo wished she was entranced by his beauty, he had the feeling she was checking the size of his pupils.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" she asked, holding up three. Yep, checking for a concussion.

"One and a half," he replied automatically. Her mouth quirked.

"Your brother does the same thing," she informed him, digging in her bag, and Gojyo felt a little frission of unhappiness when he remembered the way Dokugakuji had been acting around Yaone the last time he'd seen them together. And now he was alone with her while she was looking like she needed comforting. Clearly, his horoscope must have been bad today. He really needed to remember to check the paper in the morning.

"There," she said, carefully applying a butterfly bandage. "I'm sure Hakkai could heal that better, but that should keep it clean for now."

"Huh," Gojyo said, reaching up to poke at it.

"If you don't play with it," she said meaningfully, and caught his hand.

It could have been just a touch, no more erotic than a handshake, but their fingers tangled together, and he saw Yaone's eyes widen, heard the faint sound of her breath catching and knew she'd felt that same punch of heat that he had.

Gojyo expected her to pull away, but she didn't move. She just kept staring at him, her eyes luminous and full of uncertainty.

He reached up, running a thumb along her jaw, feathering his fingers along her neck.

She leaned into his touch, eyes half-closing, and he was toast.

He tilted his head up, brushing her lips with his, softly, giving her plenty of time to pull away.

She didn't.

Instead, she sighed softly, eyes falling the rest of the way closed as she kissed him back.

Her mouth was cool, almost astringent, and Gojyo had never met a women whose kisses were sobering and so hot all at once.

Yaone deepened their kiss, sliding her hands up his arms, fingers digging into the leather at his shoulders.

Gojyo wanted nothing more than to continue with this, to fall back on the bed with her on top of him... however, he wasn't quite that much of a bastard.

He pulled away, Yaone leaning after his mouth in a gratifying way before catching herself.

There was a fractional pause, and then she backed away from him quickly, opening and closing her mouth like she wanted to say something and couldn't find the words. She ended up staring at him with abandonment in her gaze.

"Look," Gojyo said, wanting to get this out before his libido overruled his nascent sense of decency and he returned to her like men went after rain in the desert, "You're a very pretty girl–"

"Please, there's no need to make excuses," she said in a calm, formal voice at odds with the hurt in her eyes.

"And if it weren't for my bother, I'd _love_ to but–"

"Excuse me?" Yaone said, nonplussed.

"I'm sure whatever stupid thing he's done, he's kicking himself for it," Gojyo continued, almost choking on the nobility of his words. Oh, he was _so_ going to cream Doku next time they fought for making him turn this down. "But he's–"

"I'm afraid I don't understand what you're saying," Yaone said politely.

Gojyo stopped.

"Aren't you and Dokuakuji..." Gojyo modified what was usually an obscene hand gesture into a more vague motion.

She stared at him for a minute. "You think we're... that we have a relationship? That we have a romantic relationship?" she clarified.

"Yeah."

"We don't. He doesn't think of me like that." Yaone had her arms wrapped tightly around herself and dropped her gaze back to the floor. "No one thinks of me like that."

Which was just... clearly someone had just finished treating her like trash. Gojyo felt anger start to roil in his gut. It was now excessively clear who must have been jerking her heart around and luckily for him, Gojyo had no obligation to send her back to that 'royal' jackass.

"Well, now," he said, voice low and almost purring, "that changes things."

"There's no need to try and justify..." she was rambling on, like any man with a pulse wouldn't crawl over broken class to be in her bed.

He walked over to her, tipping her chin up. Her eyes were glistening in the low light.

"Hey, none of that," he murmured, wiping away the hot tears dampening her cheeks, the familiar worthless feeling that always came when he was faced with a crying woman coming over him.

"I'm sorry," she apologized again. What was _with_ her? It was like she actually believed she was doing something wrong.

Gojyo kissed her then, slow and soft. When he pulled back, her eyes were gratifyingly dazed.

Still she lifted up her chin.

"Please don't feel you have to do this," she breathed, utterly sincere and Gojyo couldn't tell if he should laugh or start crying himself.

"Baby," he said, letting desire fill his eyes, "why do you think I'm here?" he let himself press against her.

Yaone look up at him in wonderment, like someone lusting after her was a novel idea and tilted her head consideringly, this sweet surprised smile bloomed across her face.

"Oh," she said, reaching up to wind her arms around him, and arching closer. "I see."

Gojyo didn't ask twice. He kissed her hard this time, letting his hands run up her hips, along her waist, cup her breasts.

Yaone responded in kind, nipping at his lips, sliding her hands under his shirt. Her fingers ran up his chest, flicked over his nipples and he almost swore at the surge of pleasure.

He guided her towards the bed. As much fun as nailing her against the wall would be, Gojyo knew that this was never going to happen again, and he wanted to make it last.

She tumbled back onto the bed, Gojyo on top, and he paused, holding himself over her and just wallowing in the sight she made.

She was so damn beautiful.

Her hair had fanned about her head, her lips were kissed red, skin flushed and eyes bright, her skirt shoved to the tops of her thighs.

She reached up, flicking open the clasps of her dress. She pulled her cheongsam open, revealing white lace and acres of silky skin.

She lay below him like an offering and Gojyo accepted.

**-To Be Continued-**


	3. I Don't Think This Means Anything

Gojyo ran his hand along the bare back of the women next to him. She shifted a little, almost shivering, and he pulled the blankets up, tucking them around her shoulders as he slipped out of the bed. He kissed her neck softly, and she didn't stir.

When he came back from his shower, toweling his hair dry, she was still dead to the world, hair spread across the pillows like a black veil. Gojyo shrugged into his jacket and loitered by the door.

His hand was on the doorknob, and he was hesitating. It wasn't that slipping out on a sleeping bed partner was unusual; it was just that Yaone wasn't that kind of girl.

He walked over, placing a hand gently on her back. "Yaone?" he whispered.

Nothing.

He remembered the smudges under her eyes, the tension her body had held, and felt a surge of pride that he'd gotten her relaxed enough to sleep so soundly. Still - he glanced at the clock, which read 6:57 - Sanzo had made a big deal about leaving at 7:00 am exactly.

Maybe he could nudge her awake... Yaone made a sound low in her throat, and curled into the bedding. Her little moan went straight to his libido, conjuring up thoughts of slow, lazy morning sex which... he tried to remember the last time he'd had gotten laid with bright golden light streaming through the windows. Distressingly, he was still trying to recall when the clock flipped over to 6:59.

Yaone's eyes were still closed, her body limp with utter exhaustion.

Gojyo frowned, and started opening the drawers of the little courtesy desk the hotel had provided. He found a little note pad and scrawled a quick note.

It wasn't the goodbye she deserved, but it would have to do. She might even - Gojyo cut off that thought with a snort. The next time he saw her, they'd both be on a battlefield, and she'd probably be pretending that he didn't exist. It was really too bad. Last night had been... last night had been fantastic.

Gojyo smiled as he trotted down the stairs.

The way she'd just tossed that guy across the room, all cool and composed? Brilliant. He almost wished the guy had tried to go after her a bit more. Nothing like a women who could handle herself.

And after... she'd been so quiet, he'd kept pulling his head back to check that her eyes were still bright with lust, and they always were, every time she was staring at him with wide, whiskey-brown eyes and flushed cheeks. Once he'd realized that she was just quiet, it had been easy to tell what she liked. She'd been so responsive, her body arching under his hands, and it hadn't mattered worth a damn that where other women moaned, her breath had only deepened, reserved even in this.

He wondered what it would take to get her to scream.

The bright sunlight hit his eyes like a sledgehammer, and still lost in thoughts of Yaone, his reflexive swearing at the morning didn't sound as annoyed as it should.

Yep, it was a damn shame this was a one-night thing. Still, wasn't like that was unexpected or anything. And hell, the morning he'd complain after a night like that sure as hell hadn't dawned.

Whistling cheerfully, Gojyo meandered along the road, not even flinching when Jeep roared up from behind him and Hakkai hit the brakes hard enough to have a cloud of dust fling itself up from the road and throw itself across Hakaryu's hood.

"Yo," Gojyo said.

"I thought you said we were leaving him behind again?" Goku asked Sanzo.

(≠)

She woke up starving.

_Steak,_ she thought muzzily, synapses firing dully and sleep still ragging at her bones. _I want steak._ Which was a very odd craving for a women who had just had her heart–

Yaone sat bold upright in bed.

"Oh. My. Gods," she breathed, the implications of the last couple of days washing over her. The way Kougaiji had looked turning away from her, Gojyo smirking at her, smile bright and shallow, honestly lusting after her.

He didn't love her. Neither of them did, of course, but Gojyo had at least wanted her and at this point, she wasn't sure if Kougaiji had ever even felt that for her.

Why had he told her that he loved her? Yaone pressed her forehead into her knees, wrapping her arms around her legs. Why? If he'd only wanted someone to warm his bed, someone temporary, she could have done that. She would have understood; she would have been honored.

Yaone forced herself to take a deep breath. It took quite a lot of effort, her lungs feeling numb and paralyzed.

The only thing to do was to go back to Houtou Castle and serve him. Hopefully, someday, she'd manage to prove herself worthy.

She just hoped - oh gods, the _spies._ Her hands fisted in the covers and her breath started to come short. She hadn't seen anyone who she knew was working for Koshou or Lord Kougaiji, but that didn't mean they hadn't been there, and it wasn't like she'd been subtle, last night, had she? Throwing the man across the room had been completely over the top, even if he had been about to stab Gojyo in the back.

Oh, please, _please,_ don't let anyone have seen her taking him to her room.

Yaone flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Kougaiji would undoubtedly fire her if he found out about last night. As well he should.

She gazed at the ceiling for a while longer, and wondered how long she could hide in her hotel room. But no; she needed to get back. Regardless of whether or not Kougaiji cared about her, he was still her Lord, and it would be inexcusably lax to return late from an utterly routine supply run.

Nodding to herself, Yaone went to go take a shower.

It wasn't until she was packing up her things that she found the note.

_I still owe you that drink._

_Stop by anytime._

_Sha Gojyo._

Yaone had to unpack half of her bags before she found the matches. She burned the note in the hotel's ashtray, and then tossed the ashes out the hotel window, letting the wind take them. It was sweet of him, really, but the last thing she wanted was for there to be evidence of last night.

She rubbed her face, wearily, and then repacked her bags.

(≠)

She made good time to Houtou Castle. The wind was behind her, and with a couple days to rest, her dragon was fresh and practically galloped across the sky.

No one was at the stables when she arrived, which she was grateful for. She unsaddled the dragon and rubbed him down herself, the familiar motions calming. When she was done, the dragon rubbed his head along her side in gratitude, almost knocking her off her feet. She almost laughed, and scratched his eye ridges before she carried her purchases to her laboratory.

She was in the middle of unpacking when the very last person she wanted to see knocked on the doorjamb of her open door.

Yaone looked up, and for a moment words left her. She was just staring into Kougaiji's violet eyes, and he... he just gazed back at her, and then, mouth twisting as if were a struggle, said, "Yaone-" in a hoarse voice.

Oh Merciful Goddess he was going to fire her.

He'd just been pitying her when told her he still needed her services, and now, now that he'd had a day to consider he was going to let her go.

"Lord Kougaiji," she tried to chirp cheerfully, but her voice squeaked humiliatingly. "I had quite good luck resupplying. I was able to purchase information and materials for several new varieties of detonations that may come in useful, as well as the name of a man who may be able to provide me with a new drug that has a quiet good reputation as a truth serum." Yaone said all this in one breath, and then broke eye contact, staring at the wall as she fiddled with a few items she'd yet to put away.

"I-I see," Kougaiji said. "That's very... good."

She could feel his eyes on her, and kept her head down, letting her hair curtain her face.

"Well, I should probably let you continue unpacking," he said after an awkward pause.

He turned.

"My Lord?" Yaone asked, forcing herself to stare into his eyes, and compose her face into a calm, controlled expression. "Is there anything else?"

She handed him the perfect segue to terminate her employment, and she managed to keep her voice as steady as her hands.

There was a longer pause, and then Kougaiji shook his head, earrings jingling. "Not really," he said. "Thanks for all your hard work."

"It was my pleasure," she said smoothly and sincerely.

"Yeah," Kougaiji said, and he sounded like a man facing a firing squad. "Thank you."

Yaone smiled at him, and his look of displeasure increased.

"Well, I'll let you," he made a vague, waving gesture with his hand, turned on his heel, and walked away.

It took her a long time after he left to get her breathing under control and even longer after that to stop the tears dripping down her face.


	4. You Remind Me Of Me

_"I Never Loved You Anyway" – Chapter Four_

_(You Remind Me Of Me, prompt 23)_

**Fandom:** Saiyuki

**Rating:** PG-13

**Author: redbrunja**

**Characters:** Gojyo & Yaone.

**Author's Note:** Written for unloveyou. Spoilers for Saiyuki Reload Gunlock Episode 8, 'Red-Haired Women'.

**Summery:** "There should be someone getting her to smile- she was too pretty for somber to be her default expression." In the game of love, some lines you cross, some lines you leap over, and some lines require playing hopscotch with the rules. (Yaone x Gojyo)

Gojyo was one more crack about his 'failure' to seduce women away from informing them all of his last, incredibly satisfying, assignation. With -oh who was she again? Oh, only the incredibly hot chick who'd tried to kill them all several times. God, Hakkai's face would be so priceless if he ever said that. Gojyo'd managed to keep his mouth shut for nearly a month because gentlemen didn't kiss and tell, but if this kept up...

"It must be nice to be in a state of denial," Hakkai said, smiling cheerfully at him from across the table, and Gojyo almost heard his nice-guy-ness crumbling away.

Around them, the bar was humming quietly, the chatter of voices blending into a playfull murmer.

"Hey, hey, are you underestimating my skills?" he asked, cigarette in his mouth, trying to distract himself with nicotine. Unfortunately, his damn lighter was being just as fucking annoying as his traveling companions and refusing to light.

"Skills?" Sanzo said incredulously. Since when the hell did the virgin get to make comments about Gojyo's sex life?

He was lost in reminiscing about how much he'd like to drown them all, distracted by his obnoxious lighter and then there was the tearing sound as someone - a fine, female someone with hair the color of spilled blood - struck a match, and hot damn, his luck was clearly changing.

She had lush features, full lips and wide eyes, but what really made her attractive was the slight, sure smile tugging at her lips.

He followed her back to the bar like a lodestone finding true north.

Gojyo enjoyed the warmth of her body as she leaned against him. They were walking down some pretty dark streets, but after a year of having people jump out and try to kill him, his always-good reflexes had become excellent.

He wasn't worried.

Especially not when she had her arms wrapped around his, and he could smell the flowery scent of her perfume. It wasn't as nice as the mix of soap and sweetness that was Yaone, but hey, Kougyoku was right next to him, soft, yeilding, and hadn't tried to kill him.

Yet.

Gojyo told himself not to borrow trouble.

He didn't even really notice that they'd been walking for quite a while until they were practically in the woods that circled the town.

"I don't mind quiet," Gojyo said casually, "but this is almost on the outskirts of town."

"Who cares?" she replied flippantly. "I hate being in places with lots of people."

Gojyo couldn't say he was surprised by that. He'd gone though times when he'd wanted nothing more than to be left alone, himself. It wasn't like their coloring brought out the best in people, ever, and even the few folks who didn't know exactly what it meant got a little nervy when someone showed up with hair that looked liked the they'd just come from a particularly messy massacre.

"Yeah, but still..." there was "not at lot of people," and there was the deserted, dilapidated outskirts of town.

And...

"Hey, now," he said, annoyed. They didn't make any noise, but Gojyo's scalp prickled, and he knew that there were people around who were looking to get their asses handled to them. "Damn it."

Gojyo scooped Kougyoku up on his shoulder. Her breasts pressed distractingly into his shoulder, her weight a pleasant stress on his back."Hey, what are you doing?" she cried, worried.

"Sorry, just bear with me," he said, nicely sauve. "It seems we're surrounded."

Like he'd rung a bell to start the fight, the first youkai jumped down from a rooftop, yelling and swinging his weapon.

Six.

Six stupid punks who didn't realize they should have just stayed at the bar telling lies tonight.

Gojyo reached, and his shakujou was in his hand, the crescent blade sliding free.

It was too easy. Even with the woman's form over his shoulder, it was still far too easy to slice them up and make them bleed.

"Retreat for now!" one of the remaining ones yelled, not terrified enough to forget to salvage his pride, and Gojyo heard footstep running away. They didn't even try to stick around and avenge their pals.

"Jeeze," Gojyo said, annoyed, setting the woman down. Her legs must have buckled, because she just slid down to her knees in front of him. And it wasn't like that was a position Gojyo was opposed to in principle, it was just he liked his women to be a little more enthusiastic about it.

"Sorry, were you startled?" he asked softly. His mind conjured up an image of another women, pale hands coolly twisting a man's wrist back, the sound her shoe had made against metal of the knife. He shook away the memory as he knelt down, focusing on the woman in front of him. He hadn't even thought to try and warn her.

"I - I-" Kougyoku choked out, her crimson eyes (just like his) confused and then she stood, turned, and darted away, light gray dress fluttering like a moth's wings as she ran.

"That's why I hate being attacked when I have chicks around," he said, equably. Course, sometimes it went really, really well, but most often it just sucked.

"She could have just been really scared and ran off!" Gojyo protested.

Hakkai was wearing an amused smiled that said he knew different.

Damn, his former roommate could be insufferable, sometimes.

"Gojyo, isn't that...?" Hakkai said, looking out the window and not sounding condescending at all. Gojyo practically teleported down the stairs, managing to be lounging against the doorjamb right when she started to walk away.

He saw the mixed disappointment and relief in the line of her body as she lowed her head and began to leave. It was stupid to go after someone who was so suspicious but hell, Gojyo'd never been one to do the smart thing.

Besides, failing to get killed was thirsty work, and what fun was drinking without company?

He knew she was trying to kill him from the very beginning. After a year and a half of assassins of various levels of bad, he knew when people were trying to kill him, and he'd had people trying to set him up for a fall since... for a long time. Just part of the joys of existing when everyone said you shouldn't. Still, after she'd gotten herself nicely sloshed and passed out, and he'd seen that knife slide out of the top of her dress and clatter against the floor like an admonition... That hadn't been a fun moment.

And he'd had plenty of time to think about what that knife meant as he carried her back to her place.

He listened to Kougyoku moan in her sleep. He wondered who was forcing her hand in this, who'd given her that knife. She could just have it to protect herself; that seemed reasonable. Pretty girl like that would always have some jerk hanging around who couldn't take a hint.

Gojyo slunk deeper into the couch.

Still, no woman tried to get her out-night stand plastered; it was a dumb move, and despite the way someone was clearly jerking Kougyoku's strings, she didn't seem like a stupid woman.

Her breath caught as she woke, and Gojyo kept his body loose and relaxed on her very comfortable couch.

He heard the slide of metal withdrawing from a sheath.

Her footsteps were loud as she walked over to him, and Gojyo felt suddenly weary. His hand moved without conscious thought, slapping around her wrist before his eyes were even open.

"Let go of me!" she said, outraged.

"So it was something like this," Gojyo said, hating that part of him that was surprised, even after the rest of this evening.

"You knew?" she gasped, horror in her voice, dusky skin paling further, even in the dim light. "Then why?"

"Because you've a beautiful woman," he responded, voice low. It wasn't the right thing to say. She slid to her knees, knife falling onto the floor with a low thunk and tears dripping down her face.

"Don't mock me," she sobbed, "You're still just a kid!"

Which was completely untrue, because fuck it, hadn't he been making pretty girls cry for hundreds upon hundreds of years?

He reached out, tilting her chin up.

"We should be a little quieter," he said, taking his own advice and dropping his voice to a murmur. "Everyone's probably asleep at this hour."

Damn, he hated it when women cried. There was a fraction of a pause, a flash of nascent regret that he hadn't let her kill him, but he had better ways to make her stop crying.

Their lips met. She tasted like the red wine she'd been pounding back at the bar, the dry chalk of pain, and beneath that, the salty tang of tears.

She moaned into his mouth, and Gojyo felt a flicker of satisfaction deep in his chest.

Her hands ran over his chest, and he obediently stripped off his shirt. She ran her palms along his pectoral muscles, stroking her fingers through his hair (the same shade as hers, and he _knew_, he knew what it meant to live with that color hair. It didn't matter if you cut it or dyed it or ignored it, it was always there, even if no one else knew that is was a sign of sin.)

When Kougyoku came, she made a sound like ripping cloth deep in her throat.

Afterwards, she pressed close to his back, trailing a hand up and down his chest, and he he watches the opposite wall through the smoke of his cigeratte..

"Why don't you break up with a guy like that?" he asked, responding to her description of the jerk yanking her strings. He inhaled a lungful of smoke, the tabacco of his cigarette bitter on his tongue and the smell of the smoke almost masking the scent of sex.

"You should understand," she responded, voice matter of fact beneath the post-coital lethargy, "with everything that's going on between demons and humans. We're neither demons or humans. We have no place to go." She pressed against his back, and the warmth of her body felt fleeting.

She was right. Neither of them were supposed to exist, and finding people who didn't hate the sight of crimson hair... he wondered how many men had treated her worse than rotten, for someone who was merely the wrong kind of guy to be a step up. She deserved better, but hell, it wasn't like Gojyo had room to talk.

"Even if he's a rotten guy, he's the only one who was nice to me," she continued.

"You could just be making yourself believe that," he offered, knowing she most likely wasn't.

"You think so?" she asked, voice almost coquettish.

"Most don't know that those with red eyes and hair are taboo." Which was true, as far as it went, but they always seemed to find out, always seemed to know that you weren't quite like the others, always seemed to shove you down just that much harder.

"You'd be just fine living in another town," Gojyo offered, and he could almost see her, almost imagine her happy, living somewhere with decent guys who'd fall at her feet like she deserved, who'd kiss the beauty mark under her eye and make her laugh...

"I'm scared to be alone," she admitted, running her cheek along his shoulder.

Gojyo exhaled, smoke curling up towards the ceiling in smooth, wispy arcs. "You only feel like that in the beginning," he told her. After a while, you learned how to ignore it, leaned how to pick up useless things to fill that empty hole.

He remembered green eyes laughing at him, shoving Hakkai's guts back together, and later, a bitchy monk with an unruly pet standing on his doorstep. If you were really, really lucky, eventually you ended up picking up something worth keeping, and then you never got a moment's peace again.

Gojyo thought of the feel of cards in his fingers, the way Yaone had danced away from what's-his-name's punches, the way Kougyoku had felt under him. Okay, so there'd be moments, but they were sure as hell rare.

"You'll get sick of all the guys who'd pay attention to a pretty girl like you," Gojyo said, like she was actually going to take his advice and leave.

He wondered if she would have taken him up on it if he'd had anything better to offer than a ride to the next town.

In the hills surronding the town, after he'd dealt with Bakura and his buddies, he watched Kougyoku look after her boyfriend, clinging to the side of the pit he'd tried to trap Gojyo in.

Gojyo really hopes that the next words out of Kougyoku's mouth are 'let him drop screaming to his death.'

The wind was ruffling the ends of her hair, chopped short and ragged, the rest of it probably still lying on his hotel floor, Bakura's way of proving that he was playing hardball. Nah, Hakkai had mostly likely cleaned it up. He wished Hakkai were here - he'd know exactly what to say to get Kougyoku to realize what a waste her boyfriend was.

Gojyo was quite sure that that he doesn't have anything to worth enough to entice her to leave Bakura, even if he redefined the word 'worthless' and fuck, what was it with these scumbags thatthought their girlfriends were only good for bait? If _he'd _had a woman who was half as devoted to him as Kougyoku'd been to Bakura... well, that was never going to be an issue. Which was just as well really, because a steady girlfriend would really...

"What do you want to do?" he asked her. _Say, 'Let him drop screaming to his death,' say, 'Let him drop screaming to his death,' _Gojyo thought, trying to develop telepathy.

"He's not a good man, but he'll stay with me," she said,

...because a steady girlfriend would really break into his exciting life of rescuing jackasses for the women who loved them. Yep, lucky him, all footloose and fancy free.

Gojyo gave a little shrug and then fished the guy out before trying to discreetly vanish from the scene. The last think this day needed was they sight of them kissing all joyous and thrilled to be together.

Which was what would have happened if worthless bastard hadn't tried to stab Gojyo in the back.

That was actually par for the course, really, he should have been expecting it.

But why had Kougyoku had she stepped between them?

Once she was dead, breath gone from her body, Gojyo spent an inordinate amount of time smoothing her raggedly shorn hair.

She deserved better. She deserved much, much better. She deserved better than her than her boyfriend, truly the worst kind of guy, and for her to think he, Sha Gojyo, was a good man... He wasn't, he really really wasn't, and for her to think so... Gojyo felt something hot and tight gnawing deep at his chest. He exhaled sharply, got up,walked three paces away, summoned his shakujou, and stabbed it into the ground like he was killing Bakura all over again.

He dug her grave deep and wide, and he buried both of them together. He said he would, after all, and a Sha always keeps his word.


End file.
